


Broken People Find Broken People

by msmozzarella



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But so is my OC, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Slow Build, josh is a stubborn motherfucker, tons of banter!!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmozzarella/pseuds/msmozzarella
Summary: What if Bartlet never lied about his MS? The president appoints a disability mediator to the Office of Public Liaison during his first term, and Josh finds himself at odds with her from day one... but that kind of animosity can get tiring, and he has to give in sometime.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Original Female Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a rewrite of Josh/Joey? Am I still bitter that Josh/Joey never really came to be? The answer to both of those questions is maybe. I think the writers were too cowardly to give her a good plot, and I think they were too cowardly to give any other disabled characters screen-time. I'm taking it upon myself to fix it for my own self indulgent reasons. I just hope I do Sorkin's characters some justice.
> 
> I'm not getting too specific with the timeline, but I imagine this starts around Take This Sabbath Day.

It was 8 a.m. on a Tuesday; Josh and the other senior staff filed out of the Oval Office, and he headed back towards his own. Donna stood leaning on her desk with one hand, chatting away with a small woman in a wheelchair.

“Have you read those briefings yet?” He asked his assistant, glancing at the stack of folders sitting on the edge of the table.

Donna’s eyes snapped to him, then back to her conversation. “Oh, absolutely,” she said to the other woman. “Josh, this is Amelia Weiss from the Office of Public Liaison.”

“The what?”

“The Office of Public Liaison,” the shorter woman repeated. She was at least a foot shorter than him from what he could tell, but the way she stood there (or sat there) so firmly scared him a little. He thought she couldn’t have been older than 30, judging by her sweet, childlike face. “We’re looking to create dialogue between the Bartlet administration and the American people.”

“I think we’re already doing a pretty good job of that on our own,” Josh scoffed.

“Not about his MS, you’re not,” Amelia said. “He wants to open up the discussion.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Did the First Lady put you up to this?”

“It was all the president,” she replied. “He wants to take more responsibility.”

“I happen to think it’s very noble of him,” Donna chimed in. “I was just saying I agree completely before you rudely interrupted.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.” He looked back down at Amelia. “We didn’t lie about it, we were upfront. The public doesn’t want this shoved down their throats.”

“It’s the bare minimum, Mr. Lyman,” she shot back, raising her voice.

Before she could get anything else out, he said, “Get in here,” and motioned for her to follow him into his office. There was just enough room for both of them to fit on either side of Josh’s desk and to shut the door.

“Don’t call me Mr. Lyman,” Josh said. “Makes me feel like you’re talking about my dad.”

“Not lying about the president’s health is the bare minimum, Josh,” Amelia repeated. “That’s just plain human decency, and we know he’s a decent human. The bar is literally on the floor. He wants to stop hiding it.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He was asked about it on the campaign trail, he gave the approved answer. He was honest.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg!” she cried. “That’s just the beginning; we’re going to go deeper from now on.”

“I don’t know how much deeper you think we can go,” Josh argued. “His approval ratings already aren’t great. Cracking the Camelot veneer and wiping away the gloss will only make them go lower. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Amelia said, “I’m just passing along what President Bartlet told me. Whether you like it or not, it’s going to happen because he asked for it.” 

He picked up his phone’s receiver and cradled it between his head and his shoulder before punching in a string of numbers. “Margaret? Yeah, it’s Josh,” he asked, trying to hold back his annoyance. “Does Leo have a few minutes? I need to talk to him about something from the DOL.”

She laughed bitterly. “You don’t believe me? Typical.”

He cupped his hand over the bottom of the phone. “Oh, I believe you, I just think we have to pump the brakes big time.”

“Who put you in charge?”

“Leo McGarry…” He paused. “Hey Leo, has the president told you anything about this DOL thing? The Public whatever? About the MS and…” Josh’s eyes widened. “And what’d you say?” He waited for his boss to answer. “I know, I know, I just think it’s…You told him that? And he…” Josh sighed exasperatedly. “Yeah, okay. Okay.” He hung up and scrubbed a hand down his face with a groan.

Amelia smirked with satisfaction. “The train’s not stopping; time to jump on.”

“Don’t get too excited just yet,” he said. “I’m going to talk some sense into him.” He got up from his chair and stood in front of her. “You ruined my car metaphor, by the way.”

“Not without me, you’re not,” Amelia said, blocking his path. “He needs to hear both sides of this.”

Josh deflated and accepted his fate. “Fine, but only if you let me say my piece.”

She nodded, and moved out into the hallway to where Donna was working. “Could you let the president know I’d like to see him?” She asked. “Me and Josh, actually. Both of us need to speak to him, as soon as possible if he can.”

Amelia sat there while she arranged the meeting; Josh couldn’t see her face, but he guessed she still had that same smile on. When they were done, she spun her wheelchair around on a dime. “He’ll see us in later this afternoon,” she said. Before going out into the larger corridor, she stopped. “Fuck the numbers, Josh. It’s not about the office or the statistics now, it’s about the man.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I posted the first chapter I realized Amy Gardner's full name is Amelia... she won't be making any appearances, and my OC doesn't go by a nickname. Does that still make it weird?

Josh glanced at the pixelated clock on his computer; it blinked 5:04 p.m. back at him. He sighed, trying to remain focused on the rest of the work he had to finish. He yelled for Donna, asking for a briefing on a new bill that was trying to get pushed through the House.

She popped her head in. “It’s almost 5:15,” Donna said, ignoring his question entirely. “Amelia should be here any minute now.”

“Thank the Lord for you, Donna Moss,” he said with mock brightness. “If I didn’t have you keeping my affairs in order I’d be absolutely lost.” His face fell into a scowl within seconds.

Her mouth fell open in offense. “Don’t be rude to her, please. She means well, she really does.”

“I’ll try,” he said with a pout, “but if she starts with me again, all bets are off.”

Amelia appeared in the doorway behind Donna. “You’re way too defensive,” she said to Josh, making him jump a little. “I’m just trying to do my job. Let me do it.”

“Does it ever get easier?” She asked Josh as they made their way to the Oval Office. He was itching to go at his usual near-jog pace, but because he was walking with someone in a wheelchair he had to consciously slow down.

“Does what?” He kept his gaze straight ahead, not bothering to make eye contact with her.

“Getting to talk to the president.”

“Oh, you’re definitely still in the starry-eyed honeymoon phase,” Josh said.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Amelia countered. “He’s the leader of the free world for god’s sake!”

“If you think about it like that, you’ll never sleep again for the next three and a half years.”

“How’s that going for you?” she asked facetiously. “You look like you need an IV pumping caffeine into your bloodstream.”

They were in the secretaries’ area, where Margaret and Mrs. Landingham sat. Jed’s right hand woman (at least when he was in the Oval) picked up on their energy right away. Margaret stayed silent, but her eyes widened. “He doesn’t need you two bickering like children in there,” the older woman said.

Josh and Amelia exchanged a glance. “Okay,” he sighed. He’d already sparred with Joey Lucas recently, so he didn’t exactly feel like going another round with another outspoken woman.

“Okay,” she echoed, recollecting herself.

Josh waited several beats before speaking again. “It doesn’t ever get easier,” he admitted in a quiet voice.

Charlie, the president’s body man, ducked into the Oval at the sound of his name and came back out just as quickly. “He’s ready for you,” the young man said with a tiny smile.

“Don’t get too nervous in there, sweetheart,” Mrs. Landingham told Amelia, patting her on the shoulder. “He likes a firecracker.”

She smiled sweetly before being let in.

“Josh!” Jed shouted, getting up from behind the Resolute Desk. “And Miss Weiss, great to see you again.” He made his way over to the couches in the middle of the room, sitting next to Leo on the one across from her and Josh.

Amelia smiled, maybe a little too big, and shook hands with him and Leo.

“Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” The president asked. “What was so urgent?”

“I don’t mean to step out of bounds here, sir,” Josh said in a measured tone, “but I think you may have jumped the gun on this liaison thing.”

“And why might that be?” Jed asked expectantly, glancing towards Amelia.

“It’s too much,” Josh explained. “You’re going to scare the public by throwing all this at them.”

“I disagree,” Amelia said diplomatically. “The public has no idea what the MS diagnosis actually means, what it entails. You should disclose on your terms.”

“He’s not a college professor anymore,” Josh pushed, “he’s not even a local or state official. We’re talking about the person in charge of the entire US government! Disclosing the specifics of a medical condition isn’t low stakes.”

“He’s a big boy, Josh,” Amelia said, getting annoyed, “I don’t think he needs you to decide who he tells and who he doesn’t.” She balled her hands into fists on her lap. “Besides, it’s not the 1930s anymore. I think America can handle seeing disabled people doing important things. Am I wrong, Mr. McGarry?”

“Please, call me Leo,” he said to Amelia warmly before reaching out and putting a hand on Josh’s knee. “And no, Miss Weiss, you’re not. But now that you’ve had your time, I think you both need to calm down and let the big boy speak for himself.”

“You’re both right,” Jed declared, hoping to douse the fire in both their eyes, “which is the whole reason why I had the Department of Labor and the Public Liaison hire someone like Miss Weiss in the first place.” His voice was steady, reassuring. “This isn’t all going to happen overnight, Josh,” he said. “We’re going to go about it gradually, at a pace Abbey and I decide. Hopefully most people will understand, and won’t be nervous.”

“What about the ones who don’t?” Josh asked, tensing up. “We can’t just ignore them, sir.”

“We also can’t cater to them,” Amelia countered. “We can’t obsess over making every single person we serve comfortable. It’s just not possible, and it’s not right.”

“You’re both making valid points,” Leo said. “But let the president finish…please.”

“We’re not in the business of being people pleasers, Josh,” Jed said, his volume rising slightly. “We’re in the business of doing what’s right. And at the end of the line, I’m the one who decides what’s right and what’s not.”

“We’ll worry about the people who this winds up later,” Leo added. “They don’t exactly matter right now.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We need to focus on this one step at a time.”

Josh narrowed his eyes and exhaled sharply. Leo glanced at him as if to tell him to relax and slow his roll.

“Have you decided what we’re doing yet, sir?” Amelia asked, breaking the silence.

“CJ is giving a statement to the press on Thursday,” he said. “We’ll do a conference for them and one for TV next week.”

“Excellent,” she said, sneaking a look and a small smile towards Josh. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”

“I think it’d be good for you to go sit with Sam and Toby for a while,” Jed said. “Hash things out, give them your input on the language of all this.”

“They know the president’s voice,” Leo said, “but maybe not so much about this.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Amelia said definitively. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir,” she beamed. “It means so much that I get to help you with this.”

“You’re extremely welcome, Miss Weiss,” the president said warmly. “And you’ve been extremely welcome every other time you’ve thanked me.”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew, Mr. President,” she replied. “By the way, there’s no need to be so formal with me. You can call me Amelia, I don’t mind at all.” Jed chuckled in response.

“Josh, why don’t you help Amelia get more acquainted with the rest of the staff?” Leo suggested.

Josh nodded. “You got it.”

Charlie led them out of the Oval Office; as soon as the door clicked shut Josh was back in rare form. “ _I’m_ a people pleaser?” he whined. “Bartlet doesn’t need his ego stroked, it’s perfectly large as it is.”

“I don’t think you understand, Josh,” Amelia said, turning her chair to face him.

Mrs. Landingham stood up behind her desk. “Would you two take your squabbling somewhere else, please?” She looked at them both with dismay. “This isn’t the place for it.”

The two went out into the larger corridor and headed back towards the West Wing. “What don’t I understand?” He asked. “Go ahead, tell me, someone who’s worked with this administration since the campaign.”

She glared at him, disappointed in his smugness. “Things like this don’t happen to me all the time,” Amelia said. “I don’t get seats at these tables, people don’t take chances on me.” She wished she could be closer to his eye level. “It’s not a move, it’s not facetious. I really am grateful for this, and I don’t want anyone to forget it. Least of all me.” She took a deep breath, trying to settle herself.

Josh’s eyes softened, almost imperceptibly. He sighed, and then said, “We’re all those people, Amelia.” She was taken aback by the fact that he bothered to call her by her name, and that he remembered it at all. “That’s why he hired you. That’s why you’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't mean to sound braggy, but I'm really happy with where this is going. I think I might actually be doing these characters justice? I'd love to know what you guys think!!!


	3. Chapter 3

The next afternoon, Amelia made another appearance in Josh’s doorway. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“You’re starting to sound like Donna,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I am quite the sponge,” she replied with a smirk. “And she’s been giving me some pointers about you.”

“Oh really?” He saw Donna smile knowingly from her desk. Josh stood up, about to take his assistant to task.

“We don’t have time for a lovers’ quarrel,” Amelia said. “I have to work this out with Toby and Sam before tomorrow.”

He glared at her, his mouth open like he was about to speak, but he said nothing.

She zipped over to Toby’s office, knocking lightly on the open door. Sam was absorbed in whatever was on his laptop, and Toby was arguing with him from his couch.

“We can’t be so direct,” Toby said, bouncing a little rubber ball on the floor. “We need to surround it with flowery shit so people don’t realize what they’re hearing until it’s over.”

Sam peered at his boss over his glasses. “You’re overthinking this,” he said. “As usual.”

He bounced the ball harder, his eyes darkening. “I’m thinking about it the appropriate amount,” he said. “You, however, seem to be under thinking. Don’t you realize how serious this is? What this means?” His voice rose enough so that the whole communications bullpen could hear him.

Amelia knocked again, harder and louder this time. “Am I interrupting something? I can come back later, if you want.” Sam looked up from his computer again, and Toby softened a little.

Josh cut in from behind her. “No, they’re like this all the time,” he explained. “Just go in; if the door’s open, don’t bother knocking.”

“We could use more politeness around here,” Toby mused.

She parked herself between the couch and Toby’s desk. Before she could get her name out, Sam got up from his seat and came around to her.

“Sam Seaborn,” he said with a wide smile. “Deputy Communications Director. Welcome to Washington.”

Amelia felt her cheeks flush a little under his gaze. She hadn’t been in the White House long, but she’d already heard almost every woman on Pennsylvania Avenue talk about him. “Amelia Weiss,” she said. She cleared her throat. “I work for Public Liaison. I’m the president’s disability mediator.”

Toby sat up, but didn’t smile when he introduced himself.

“I’m supposed to help you write the statement CJ’s giving tomorrow,” she continued. “And the stuff for the conferences.”

“We’re more than capable,” Toby said. Josh shot him a look.

“Are either of you disabled?” Amelia asked in a biting tone. Sam blinked, Toby just stared at her. “I didn’t think so. I think I’m more than capable of knowing how to talk to people about MS in a way that doesn’t make them panic, or not know what to think.”

Josh stepped in front of her, but she held up a hand as if to tell him to stop. “In case you didn’t know, which I’m sure you don’t,” Amelia continued, making a half turn towards Toby, “I have a bachelor’s in sociology from NYU, and a master’s in media and communications from the School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia. The president didn’t hire me just to make me feel good about myself.”

Sam looked impressed. Toby quirked an eyebrow. “You’re from New York?”

She knew she had him. “Long Beach, born and raised. I moved out to the city for undergrad…I thought I’d never leave once I finished my master's, but this job was too good to pass up.”

The communications director started asking her about this politics professor or that speech and rhetoric one, and this particular restaurant or that neighborhood, and Josh tuned them out.

“She’s something else, huh?” Sam asked his friend.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to duke it out with her all the time,” Josh sighed. “Be grateful you don’t.”

“What is it with you that makes you attract the same type of woman into your life?” Sam smirked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The deputy chief of staff asked. He paused. “You know what? I don’t wanna know.”

“How old are you anyway?” Toby asked, setting Sam’s laptop aside and letting his desktop come to life.

“I’ll be 31 in the spring,” Amelia answered proudly. “Don’t even say it, I know I look like I’m about ten years younger.”

As the afternoon turned to evening, she held her own against Toby’s gruff, no nonsense demeanor. “That’s too heavy handed,” she said. “This is a presidential press conference, not some stupid telethon. How many times do I have to say it?” Amelia unbuckled herself from her wheelchair and stood up, squeezing herself in next to him.

Josh and Sam’s eyes widened across the room. “Whoa, don’t…” Sam said, moving forward as though he thought he might have to catch her.

The hinges of her leg braces squeaked as she leaned down to type. “Some people who use wheelchairs can walk,” she said, meeting Sam’s eye and peering at him over her glasses. “I’m not paralyzed, just…ungraceful.” Toby shrugged, and Amelia went back to looking over their work. “Get rid of the person first language, ‘disabled people’ is a lot less clunky.”

“I thought that was the accepted terminology now,” Toby said.

“Yeah, from people who think they know better than people like me,” Amelia said. “It’s not a blanket thing. Personally, I hate it.”

“So how do you feel about ‘special needs’, or ‘handicapped’?” Sam asked. She couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious or trying to get a rise out of her.

“Handicapped has its place,” she said, “but special needs is just…gross. Like, imagine referring to the president in such a cutesy way.” She saw Josh’s face twist up like he’d eaten something sour. “It doesn’t sit right.”

Toby nodded in reply. “We can’t tiptoe around this, Mr. Ziegler,” Amelia said, continuing to type.

He cut her off. “I’m not your fourth grade teacher,” he said sardonically. “We’re on a first name basis around here.”  
“The language we use informs how ordinary Americans will see the president from tomorrow on, Toby,” she said with emphasis. “This isn’t something that should be spun. Directness won’t hurt.”

“CJ’s gonna like her,” Toby said quietly.

“Oh, definitely,” Josh said. “She said ‘fuck’ within five minutes of meeting me.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I’m right here, guys,” Amelia said, feigning annoyance but crumbling into giggles. “I’m a very complex person, you know. I have layers. Looks can be deceiving.”

“I bet,” Toby said.

They went a little further down the hallway to CJ’s office after working out the kinks in the speechwriters’ work. Her door was closed, which Josh said was “never a good sign, especially this late in the day.” Amelia moved to rap on the door, but he stopped her. “Let me handle this one,” he said softly.

He called her name, and she shouted a strained “Yeah?” A few seconds later, she opened the door with an exhausted look on her face. “Can I help you, Joshua?”

“You’re giving a statement on Bartlet’s MS to the press during tomorrow’s briefing-“

“With me…Amelia Weiss,” Amelia jumped in, moving further into her view. “You’re introducing them to me, because I’m the guy now.” She paused. “He has a guy for this stuff now, by the way.”

“So I’ve heard,” CJ said glancing down at her and running a hand through her hair. “You get the statement written yet?”

“It’ll be on your desk from Toby and Sam first thing in the morning,” she said with a big smile.

“Heidi’s cute,” CJ said to Josh.

“That’s a new one,” Amelia smirked, “I like it.”

“She looks soft, but it takes a lot to get her to bend,” Josh said. “Trust me.”

“You need your ass handed to you every now and again,” CJ said to the deputy chief of staff. “It’ll knock you down from that pedestal some people have you on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like that this is more of an ensemble fic instead of just being about Josh and my OC. I really wanna know how you guys think I'm doing!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanna know how you guys think I'm doing! I'd love comments along with your kudos :)

Amelia barely had any time to settle in at the OEOB before she needed to be at the White House on Thursday morning. She clambered across the backstreet, anxious that she’d get honked at or worse. Her heart was pounding when she made it into the lobby and got checked in. 

Donna noticed how flushed and out of breath she was as she passed her in the hallway and stopped. “You alright?” She asked, a concerned look in her eyes.

“I’m on foot today,” Amelia said, leaning on her walker some more. She took a deep breath.

Josh’s assistant looked her up and down as if she’d only just realized something was different than the usual.

“I’ll be fine,” Amelia said with a small smile. “I’m just glad I got here without getting hit by something.”

Donna’s eyes widened. “Do you want a drink? A place to sit? I can tell CJ we need a few more minutes.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m used to this.”

The slim blonde took her to the briefing room, where Josh, and the press pool were waiting for CJ.

Josh’s brow quirked up. “You sure you wanna stand the whole time?”

The press secretary came in, commanding most of the attention. “Good job on the statement,” she said quietly, peering down at Amelia. She looked out on the crowd in front of her. “Don’t let them scare you, Bambi,” she said. “Be unflappable; you’re smarter than all of them.” She turned back for a second. “You don’t have to stand if you don’t want to, we can get a chair in here.”

“I want to,” Amelia said, smoothing the front of her skirt. “They’ll take me more seriously if I’m standing. It’s not right, but wheelchairs make people think of weakness.”

CJ gave her a look of agreement. “Eat `em up, baby.” The reporters immediately went silent when she took her took her place behind the podium. “Good morning, everyone; take your seats. I have a couple of things I wanna bring to your attention. First, the president has narrowed down his short list for Supreme Court nominations.”

A chorus of voices called out her name, but she maintained control. “I’m not at liberty to reveal who the first, second, or even fifth choices are at this time, so don’t bother asking.” She glanced down at her binder. “Second, and possibly even more importantly than the ninth man on the court, President Bartlet has appointed a disability mediator, Amelia Weiss, to the Office of Public Liaison. She’s going to be the person who helps the administration broach the subject with the people they serve.” The press secretary gave Amelia a look of confidence. “She’ll be taking your questions now,” she said. “I’ll be staying in the room, so don’t think you can pull one over on her.” She paused, and then said, “Miss Weiss, the floor is yours.”

Amelia took CJ’s place, feeling like she’d literally stepped into the other woman’s shoes. She cleared her throat, and before she could collect herself the reporters clamored for her attention.

“How exactly is this going to work?” Someone from the New York Times asked.

“The president already has a plan, unsurprisingly,” she replied. “I don’t know every detail yet, but I will find out. He and Dr. Bartlet will be filming something for the public soon.”

“Did you have any influence on his plans?” The reporter pressed.

“None at all,” Amelia answered. “It was all him,” she said with a smile. “I’m just here to help, not tell him what to do. I don’t think that would go over well.”

“Do you think this will impact his approval ratings?” Another reporter from the Chicago Sun-Times asked.

“I don’t have any control over that,” she said, “and neither does he. We’ll have to see how this all plays out.”

“You can’t deny that people will have a visceral response to this,” they continued. “No one wants to see their leader crippled, and they might not be comfortable reelecting a crippled leader three years from now.”

Anger bubbled inside Amelia and she felt her knees shake a little. “The president’s condition does impact his life,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

CJ glanced at her nervously, but said nothing.

“But he’s going to try his damnedest to not let it impact his ability to lead this country. It doesn’t make him any worse of a commander in chief or any worse of a man.” She stopped to take a breath. “We’re in the new millennium, and it’s time for some new perspectives in politics.”

A voice from the back of the room spoke up. “Don’t you think you might be perceived as the president and First Lady showing some bias, Miss Weiss?”

Amelia opened her mouth to speak, but CJ cut her off. “This isn’t about her, Danny,” she said, stepping forward. “This is about her doing a job for the president, a rather critical one, might I add.”

“You don’t need to protect me, CJ,” Amelia said in a hushed tone. “I’ve got this.” She craned her neck to look directly at Danny. “I couldn’t care less about how I’m perceived,” she said. “What I do care about is how I perform. I intend to do that well. And if the president cared one single bit about the optics of this, he wouldn’t have wanted a disabled person to do this job. He would’ve taken any Ivy League educated asshole with no real knowledge about what they’re doing off the top of his stack of resumes.” She snuck an impish glance at Josh. “Go ahead, write that down. Publish it.”

She stepped out of the way to let CJ finish the briefing. The press secretary seemed speechless for a few seconds. “Uh…That’s a full lid. I’ll see you all later…by myself.”

They slipped out into the corridor, Josh looking amazed and CJ holding back a fit of laughter.

“I don’t believe what I just saw,” Josh said. “You massacred Danny Concannon on your first at bat. Masterful work.”

“You couldn’t see with the podium in the way, but my knees were shaking the whole time,” Amelia replied bashfully.

It took CJ some time to stop giggling, but then she said “Brava, madam,” with an exaggerated bow.

“I thought I might get too fired up,” Amelia admitted. “Show exactly where my interests lie.”

“Well, it worked,” CJ grinned. “Just be a little more pragmatic next time. You don’t want it to turn into a schtick.”

During her lunch hour, she went over to the White House mess hall. She hoped no one would see how rumpled she was from walking everywhere all morning instead of sitting. She paused in front of the cafeteria doors to blow a chunk of hair out of her eyes. She moved to keep going, but got bumped into from behind.

“Sorry,” someone said brusquely, going around her.

“How did you not see her there?” Amelia looked up to see Donna’s slightly vexed face. “On Josh’s behalf, I’m really sorry,” she said. “Come eat with me.”

She walked behind Josh’s assistant, not wanting to take up too much space. Donna turned around to see if she was still close, and motioned for her to move up. “I heard how the briefing went,” she said, leaving room for them to walk side by side. “Josh can’t stop talking about it.”

Amelia felt her face and neck get hot. “He’s probably just jealous I did better than him on my first go,” she said with a giggle.

“You’re probably right, but he’d never admit it.”

They ran into Ginger while getting their food. “Toby’s pissed you went off-script,” the redhead said.

“I don’t have to answer to him, do I? He’s not my boss,” Amelia said. “I was joking when I told them to use what I said. It’s not like the public is glued to CSPAN.”

“He’ll cool down after the broadcast version goes out,” Donna assured her. She gave her a warm smile.

They sat and chatted over their salads, about everything but work. “Stop it,” she said to Donna, “you’re adorable! Any guy who doesn’t see that is blind.”

“I’m committed to my job,” the assistant replied simply. “I’m sure you’ve barely done anything but sleep on the weekends since you started.”

Amelia scoffed. “That may be true, but you need to have balance. You’re allowed to have fun, y’know.” She took a bite of her food and thought while she chewed. “Tomorrow’s Friday…Let’s go out for drinks after work, hang out.”

*

“No ad-libbing, no improv,” Toby said to Amelia while watching Jed and Abbey get ready for filming the version of the MS statement the public would see later that day. “They read what’s on the page, nothing else.”

“I liked it,” Dr. Bartlet said, grinning at Amelia. “You’ve got spunk, putting those reporters in their place.”

“She’s got a heart of fire, she does,” the president added.

“Just keep it from spreading in mixed company, alright?” Toby pleaded. “You can’t let your feelings get in the way of what you’re supposed to do.”

“I know that, but we’re not all robots, Toby,” Amelia said with a hint of good humor in her voice. “Unfortunately.”


	5. Chapter 5

An email from Donna popped up in Amelia’s inbox the next day:

I invited…basically everyone else from senior staff. I thought a group thing might be fun! I hope you don’t mind :)

By the time she got to the Hawk and Dove (Donna’s choice), she was ready to unwind. She weaved her way through the dining room with her chair, and saw CJ before she saw any of the others.

“Hey, booboo!” The press secretary cried, leaning way down to kiss her on the cheek. “Get comfy, I’ll buy you a drink in honor of yesterday.” The only space left for Amelia was at the outer end of the table, so she parked herself there.

“I’m glad you learned from your mistakes,” Toby mused, taking a sip from his whiskey.

“About that…” she said, leaning forward so he could hear her. “I think we should try going live next time. Going on tape felt so…sterile to me. Not natural, not Bartlet.”

“Can we not talk about work right now?” Donna asked before the communications director could respond. “I thought that was the whole point of this.”

“Come to my office on Monday,” Toby said quietly.

“Now that we all have drinks,” CJ announced, coming back over with a full glass of dark beer, “let’s have a toast to Amelia.” She sat down in the empty chair to the younger woman’s left. “To the chihuahua of the White House staff, Amelia Weiss!”

Everyone raised their glasses, even the communications director.

“You guys have been too good to me,” Amelia said, taking a sip of her drink.

“We take care of our own,” Sam said.

“You barely know me,” she said, eyes falling to the table.

“The president’s judgment is good,” he continued.

“Most of the time,” Toby added. “As is CJ’s.”

“If she likes you, you’ve gotta be okay,” Charlie chimed in. The press secretary smacked him on the arm. “I mean it with love,” he said.

“Don’t get so down on yourself,” Donna said kindly.

Amelia gave them all a small smile. “I’m really not used to…this. Any of it.”

“I don’t know if you ever do,” Charlie said.

“It’s all like a dream sequence,” she said. “I kind of hate it.”

“I’ll pinch you if you ever need to know you’re conscious,” Josh said with a wink.

“I think that’d be considered harassment,” Donna deadpanned.

“You’ve never reported me!” He shot back.

She grew more relaxed as the night went on. Maybe the alcohol was responsible for that, but she didn’t care. It was the most loosened up she’d felt in weeks.

“Oh my god,” Amelia said, her eyes widening. The opening chords from “Mamma Mia” by ABBA played over the bar’s speakers. “I love this song!” She started bopping and wiggling in her seat.

“I knew there had to be something wrong with you,” Josh said. “Nobody seriously likes ABBA.”

“You’re no fun at all!” She cried, pulling away from the table and doing a little twirl with her chair. When the chorus came, she sang along with her whole chest and looked him straight in the eye. 

“I listen to them from time to time,” Donna said.

“Thus proving my point,” Josh replied.

Amelia kept singing along, and kept spinning herself around. By the time the song faded out into “One” by U2, she was dazed and dizzy. “I…don’t feel great,” she mumbled, letting out a tiny giggle.

“Let’s go outside for a minute,” Donna said, getting up and helping her get to the door. “Get some air.”

“I’m not usually like this,” Amelia said, holding onto her chair’s armrest to keep herself from swaying while they sat. “I’m really not.”

The blonde placed a soothing hand on her back and rubbed a little. “You can take all the time you need.” They stayed like that for a few minutes.

“I’m not ruining your night?” She asked, feeling like a little girl again.

“Nope,” Donna assured her. “You could never.”

Amelia took a deep breath and smiled. “What’s Josh’s deal?”

“He treats all the women in the West Wing like that,” she explained. “It’s not because…” She paused, considering her words. “You’re not special.”

“For once in my life, thank god,” Amelia laughed.

The door of the bar swung open and thunked closed, and CJ appeared. “You okay?” She asked. “I was getting worried you’d be laid out on the sidewalk somewhere.”

“Doing better,” Amelia said quietly. She craned her neck up and gave the press secretary a small smile.

“You wanna come back inside?”

“I can help you get home,” Donna suggested.

“No, I’ll stay,” Amelia sighed.

They brought her back to their table. “She didn’t run away on us,” CJ said, taking the empty seat to her right.

“Ah, that’s gotta be a first,” Sam laughed.

“No more drinks for you,” Charlie said.

Amelia gave an exaggerated pout. “Fine, fine.”

“I take full responsibility,” CJ said.

“No more cheesy seventies pop songs for you,” Toby said.

“I can’t make any promises,” Amelia said, trying to coax a reaction out of the communications director. She saw Josh laugh, his dimples making indents in his smile. Her heart did a little jump, and she went pale.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Donna asked, resting her hand on top of Amelia’s.

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “I just need some water.”

Donna hopped up, but she stopped her. “I’ll get it myself,” she said. “You don’t have to do everything for me.” Amelia pulled away slowly and headed towards the bar. The counter was at least six inches above her head, and it took some time for her to get the bartender’s attention. He frowned when all she asked for was a glass of water. She stood up, shakily took the glass before sitting back down, and wheeled away.

It wobbled a little in her lap, but didn’t slosh around. She confidently moved herself back to their table, and grabbed the heavy glass from between her legs. As she was lifting it Josh came up behind her and tried to squeeze past her, causing her to lose her grip and for the water to splash all over her lap.

“What is it with you?” Amelia asked, glaring at him. “How is it possible that I’m this invisible to you?” She grabbed a bunch of napkins and tried to sop up the liquid. “It’s like you’re seeing me but looking right through me.”

“What?” He said softly.

CJ started helping her pat her pants dry. “It’s just water, honey.”

“You…take up a lotta space,” Josh said.

“Get used to it,” Amelia said.

On Monday morning, she stopped at her desk in the OEOB after going over to Toby’s to talk about Bartlet’s next MS message to the public.

A Public Liaison secretary, a girl named Holly, passed by and stuck a post-it to her desk. Message from Josh Lyman, it read. I’m sorry. Lunch this week?

She picked up her phone and dialed Donna’s desk number. “Hey, what’s with the message Josh left me?”

“He wants to make it up to you, I think,” his assistant said. “For being a colossally insensitive jerk.”

“Tell him I’ll see him I’ll see him at…” She paused, looking at her calendar. “One on Wednesday. Make sure he doesn’t back out.”

“It should be part of my job description at this point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there feelings being caught?? You'll have to keep reading to find out ;) I'd love comments and kudos!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is hella short but what's coming next is....not.

“You have a date with Josh Lyman?” Another staffer named Rose asked as she was leaving the OEOB on Wednesday. “Lucky!”

“It’s not a date,” Amelia corrected. “It’s conciliatory meal. That’s it.”

“You and him alone sure sounds like a date.”

“In his office? I don’t think so,” she said. “There’s no subtext to be found. Not when he’s that blatant with his assistant.”

As she was crossing the street towards the White House, she wondered if he might have an underlying motive. The thought made her start to sweat a little. When she got into the lobby she scrunched her eyes closed and shook her head, trying to get rid of the idea.

“Amelia’s here for you,” Donna called out to her boss when she wheeled up to the assistant’s desk. “I chose your order for you,” she said, passing Amelia a plastic takeout container. “I hope you’re not picky.”

“I’ve got that,” Josh said, loping over and taking the food from her lap. He made room for her to go in first, then followed her and sat down behind his messy desk.

“Did Donna put you up to this?” Amelia asked, mimicking his disbelief from the first time they met. She opened her container and found a turkey avocado club; she tried her best to swivel her torso and give Donna a thumbs up.

“You really think so little of me?” He challenged.

“It’s a valid question,” she shot back. “I didn’t know you were capable of feeling remorse.”

He took a bite of his French fries. “I may be tough on the Hill, but off it is another story.”

“It took him a year to say something nice about me to my face,” Donna called from her desk.

“You’re really not helping my case here, Donna,” Josh lamented. He sidestepped behind Amelia to close the door.

“Despite what you’ve heard,” he continued, sitting back down, “I am a good person.” He sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “I wanted to apologize, for-“

“For only being nice to me when it’s convenient for you,” Amelia cut in. “When I’m not of use to you is another story.”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly. “How do you know the difference?”

“I’m frighteningly good at reading people, Josh,” Amelia explained. “It’s a blessing and a curse. I can tell when people don’t give a shit about me.” His eyebrows shot up.

They sat and ate in silence for a couple of minutes. “I was going to say I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole,” Josh said quietly.

“Hm?” She asked, her mouth full.

“I’ve been a fucking asshole to you, Amelia,” he repeated louder.

“And you’re apologizing to me…why?” She took a sip of her iced tea. “I thought that was just a personality trait.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Donna,” Josh said. “I’m really not a horrendous human being. I’m serious.” The look in his eyes was more earnest than she’d ever seen from him.

Amelia adjusted her glasses and sighed. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “You’re giving me puppy eyes.”

“You just…You intimidate me. I’m sorry, that’s how I deal with being intimidated.”

She involuntarily burst out laughing. “I don’t get that often.” She took another bite of her food. “It’s annoying as hell, I hope you know that. But I accept your apology.”

Josh grinned at her, and she felt her pulse flutter. She reached out to steal one of his fries, and he reached to slap her hand away. “Get your own next time!” When their hands touched she felt…something, whether it was a spark or not she couldn’t tell.

“There’s going to be a next time?” she countered.

“I do like you, if it wasn’t clear,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d need to spell it out for someone so smart.”

“So you’re admitting you think I’m smart?”

“I said it, didn’t I?” Josh replied.

“Smarter than you?” Amelia pushed.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll see.”

“So now you’re saying there’s going to be a next time?” He gave her another grin.

Amelia’s cheeks burned red. “I didn’t…”

“It was implied,” Josh said coolly. “You definitely implied it.”

When she left Josh’s office, Donna met her eye knowingly. “What?”

“I guess I was wrong,” she said sweetly. Donna motioned for her to come over. “I’ll put you down for two weeks from today,” she said quietly. “The day after the Newseum thing.”


	7. Chapter 7

On the night of the live town hall Amelia was puttering around her apartment in Georgetown, making herself dinner and with Friends on TV in the background. She wanted to get her mind off work, and off Josh. She was still hugely confused by the mixed signal he was sending her.

She got up off her couch as Will & Grace started, and went to the kitchen sink to rinse her dishes and silverware. She ran her plate under the water, then set about scrubbing the remnants of lemon garlic butter off of it. The dish made a plunk and clang into the water as she reached for her sponge; before she started cleaning, she rested her hands on the countertop. 

The thought “This isn’t going to end well” crossed Amelia’s mind for a split second. She hadn’t had a chance to dry her hands yet; one of them slipped, making her lose her footing. It all happened so fast that she didn’t have time to catch herself, and she fell straight back onto the hardwood floor. Amelia’s head made contact first, with a sickening thud. 

Adrenaline rushed through her, just enough to dull the throbbing she already felt and push her to drag herself over to the couch, where her cell phone was sitting on the armrest. She shakily dialed 911, and “I hit my head, I think I have a concussion, I don’t know” spilled out of her mouth before the operator could ask what her emergency was.

Paramedics showed up in front of her first floor apartment within minutes. They picked her up off the floor, bombarding her with questions. “I don’t know how it happened; I just slipped,” she said as they turned the gurney around. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her walker and wheelchair sitting empty by the door. 

On the way to GW University Hospital, she dizzily turned to the paramedic watching her vitals and asked “Am I gonna die?”

They were held up at the emergency entrance by another pair of ambulances and a flurry of people and black cars. Amelia floated on the edge of consciousness as they finally got her inside the building, the noise and bright lights of the hospital making her squeeze her eyes shut and moan in pain.

That was the last thing she remembered that night.

*

The senior staff who were left unharmed after the shooting were sitting in the ICU waiting area, mostly silent. They couldn’t bear to be apart when so much hung in the balance for them. 

CJ came back from taking Mrs. Landingham to get something to eat from the vending machine, her face ghostly white yet again. “Amelia’s here,” she said in an uneasy voice.

“Is she on her way back here?” Donna asked.

“She’s in the ER,” the press secretary said, “I heard someone at the nurses’ station mention her name.” She sat back down and gave a tired sigh.

“Oh my god,” Josh’s assistant gasped.

“You don’t know what happened, do you?” Sam asked. 

“I have no idea,” CJ said, “and I’m not sure I’m allowed to ask.”

Donna looked doubly shattered, but said “I’ll go.”

“I can’t give you any more updates on the the president’s condition,” the nurse on duty said, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no,” she said. “A-Another one of my friends is here, actually. I think she’s alone.”

The fearful look on the blonde’s face softened the nurse, and she told Donna where Amelia was.

The White House staffer was kept in an emergency bed while she recovered. Donna peeked around the curtain gingerly, anxious about what she’d find.

“Hey,” Donna said quietly, tucking some hair behind her ear and stepping closer to her friend’s bed.

Amelia blinked dazedly. “Donna? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Josh and the president, they were…they w-were shot out in Rosslyn.” She swallowed thickly, figuring it would be better to hear it from her. “You didn’t watch the news?”

“No,” Amelia whispered. “Is he — the president…are they…?”

“Bartlet should be able to recover, but Josh…” Donna blinked back tears. “He’s been in surgery for a few hours. They don’t know…”

“Oh god,” she breathed, feeling a lump form in her throat.

Her friend leaned over and gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t get yourself too worked up,” she said, “I’m sure your head really hurts.”

She sniffled. “Tell everybody I’m okay,” Amelia said. “I know I’m not on the top of their priority list right now, but they can give me a call if they want once I’m back home.”

She took the next day off from work to rest. After senior staff (and breakfast for her), her landline started ringing like crazy.

First it was Donna. “I wanted to make sure you got home alright,” she said, “and that you didn’t hurt yourself again. I’m a call away if you need anything…seriously, don’t be shy.”

Then CJ called. “I was worried sick about you, mi amor,” the press secretary said. 

“It was just a bump on the head, CJ,” Amelia smiled. “I feel much better already.”

“Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

Sam checked in on her around lunchtime. “You really scared us,” he said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You have no reason to be scared,” she told him. “I’m doing fine.”

Even Toby gave her a call. “What are the odds of you ending up in the hospital on the same night?” She couldn’t tell if he was seriously asking or not. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Of course I will, Toby,” she laughed.

The next afternoon while she was loading her dishwasher she got a call from a private number. “Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me you were hurt?” Bartlet said in a tired and hoarse voice before she could even say hello.

“Shouldn’t you be…recuperating, sir?”

He ignored her question entirely. “Was it serious? Are you all right?”

“It’s just a mild concussion, I’ll be back at work next week.”

“Oh you poor thing,” he said. “I’ll have Abbey send some things over to you.” He paused. “Do you like sweets?”

“You really don’t have to do this, sir…”

“Nonsense,” the president said stubbornly. “We take care of our own, no matter who they are.”

Amelia was back in the White House in her wheelchair by the following Tuesday.

“How ya doin’, kid?” Leo asked, stopping on his way from the lobby to the West Wing. He gave her a warm grin.

“I’ve felt better,” she said, “but I’ve also felt worse.”

“I know the feeling,” the chief of staff chuckled, patting her on the head. If it was anyone but Leo she would’ve objected. “Let Margaret know if you need anything and I’ll get it taken care of for you.” He paused, and then said, “Don’t scare the shit out of us again, please.”

She was in the middle of looking up some NIH statistics and information long after most of her Public Liaison colleagues had gone home when her desk phone rang. The sound of it made her jump.

“I thought you might not pick up,” Josh said softly.

Amelia felt a smile spread across her face involuntarily. “Josh, oh my god… How are you feeling?”

She heard him groan as he shifted position. “Y’know… Like I’ve been hit by a truck. What about you?”

“You have bigger things to be concerned about right now,” she smirked.

“CJ and Donna both told me what happened,” he said. “It’s not nothing.”

“But it’s also not a gunshot wound and surgery… I’m fine compared to you.”

“You don’t have to be a hero, y’know.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Worry about yourself first,” Amelia told him. “Though I’m not sure you know how.”

“I’m not allowed to be concerned about a friend?” His choice of words made her heart sink a little. Maybe he’d given her the answer she was looking for.

She sighed. “It’s sweet of you to check up on me.” She cleared her throat, and then added “It means a lot.”

“I’m always looking out for you,” he said softly. “Whether it comes across that way or not.”

“Thanks, Josh,” was all Amelia could manage to get out before hanging up. She was definitely confused again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said this was a slow build/burn, I meant it. Keep the comments and kudos coming :)


	8. Chapter 8

The TV was on in Toby and Sam’s office when Amelia came by to go over another MS statement. The communications director was fixated on it, so much so that he didn’t notice her. “What could possibly be so interesting to you?” she asked with a smile.

“Ginger, get the popcorn,” he called, still ignoring her. “Sam’s about to get his ass kicked by a girl!”

She wheeled up next to him and said “Okay, I need to see this.” Sam was on Capitol Beat along with a tiny southern blonde, sparring over opposing House bills on public education. Josh ran into the room as well. “By the way,” Amelia added, “what’s so surprising about a woman who can crush a man in a debate?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Josh said, turning to face her and seeing the mischievous look in her eyes.

Amelia stopped when she heard voices coming from a stairwell that led downstairs a few days later. It wasn’t often anyone went down there.

“You cannot possibly be so stubborn,” an unfamiliar voice said. 

Then the sound came closer. “I’m not being stubborn, I’m being realistic, Ainsley. It’s not going to happen, no matter how much you bat your eyelashes and look sweet.”

“I am not that shallow, and you know it.”

“He really is that stubborn,” Amelia said as they walked past her. “I had a 20 minute argument with him about medical terminology vs. laymen’s terms.” She beamed, and then added “I won that one.”

Ainsley turned around. “Ah, so I’m not the first to stump the sensational Sam Seaborn,” she said with a smile. 

“It was only because she wouldn’t back down,” Sam said.

“I’m sure you made a strong argument,” Ainsley said. “I saw you on your first press briefing.”

She smiled with pride. “You did?”

“I thought you were fabulous.” She paused and thought for a moment. “You should be on Capitol Beat.”

“For a debate about disability?” Amelia asked. “Or just Bartlet’s MS?”

“Open it up,” Sam said, “Make people realize this is bigger than just him.”

“But wouldn’t that put too much attention on me?” She looked nervous already. “Put me in front of the firing squad alone?”

“It doesn’t have to,” Ainsley said. “I’ll help you work it out.”

“It can’t be too scripted though,” Amelia said, “It’s a debate, not a pulpit. And that’ll put me right where they want me.”

“You’re learning how to play the game,” Sam said with a smirk.

Ainsley went with her to the studio for moral support. “You know what you’re talking about,” she said before Amelia would be called to her place. “You’re smart, much smarter than people like Mary Marsh and Mark Gottfried think you are.”

Amelia smiled tensely. "Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Prove them wrong.” She took her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

A producer called one minute to live, and she took her place behind the desk with Mark and Lucy Becker, a Republican aide who was notorious for smacking down any bill that would help minorities before they got to her boss. 

“Here’s some advice: don’t swing too hard,” the host told Amelia. “Don’t try to do too much. But don’t be scared. Lucy isn’t as tough as she looks.”

Becker didn’t say anything, she just smiled from the other end of the table.

“Before we go to Chris and Marjorie, we have a special discussion topic,” Mark said, “where does disability belong in politics?” He introduced Amelia and Lucy, then posed a question for the former. “Miss Weiss, has working for the president directly changed your stance in any way?”

She knew it was a setup, an easy way to push her buttons. “Not in a negative sense it hasn’t,” she said evenly. “If anything, it’s shown me just how much a stance like mine is necessary.”

“And what exactly would that stance be?” Lucy pushed.

“Disabled people need their voices heard, period. We don’t need able people telling us what we should and shouldn’t expect from our government.” She saw Ainsley beaming and giving her a thumbs up.

“You can’t expect the government to cater to your special interests,” the Republican countered. “You want fairness; legislation that serves the largest amount of constituents at the same time is what’s fair.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding me,” Amelia said. “What I want is equity; what works for one person might not work for another.” She took a deep breath. “And let me just say this plainly: disability isn’t a special interest. Disabled people are citizens, not pieces in a political game. We’re not a monolith.”

“You keep using the word we,” Lucy mused. “Don’t you think that makes it obvious that you’re not impartial?”

“It’s what I am,” she said simply. “The personal is political for me. But I’m not here just to talk about myself.”

“Spoken like a true Bartlet liberal,” Lucy chuckled. “Are you sure you have no influence on his policy decisions? It’s common knowledge you’re in charge of his message on the MS. He doesn’t ask your opinion on anything else?”

“Of course he does,” Amelia chuckled back, “he wouldn’t have hired me if he didn’t want to know what I think. But I don’t push or pull him in a particular direction.”

Please,” the other guest scoffed. “We all know Bartlet can’t make a decision on his own.”

She felt the familiar seething anger in her belly; she knew she was being put in a corner. “I’m not that important,” she said, steeling herself. “I’m not important enough to change the leader of the free world’s mind on anything.”

“So why are you in the White House?” Lucy asked. “Is he just filling a quota? Doing preemptive damage control? Is that what this is?”

Amelia started to sweat. “That’s not what I meant,” she said, face turning red. “And this is none of those things. The president has more important things to worry about.”

“What did you mean exactly, then? He made a point to talk about it on the campaign trail, but now that he’s in office all of a sudden his health is a nonissue? It doesn’t just become a nonissue overnight.”

Mark cut in. “Ladies, thanks for your thought-provoking chat, but we’re running short on time. We’re gonna have to switch over to Chris Eisen at the Pentagon.”

As soon as they were off air Amelia rushed over to Ainsley. “Oh my god, I crumbled,” she said on the verge of tears. “The guys were sitting in their offices watching me and I crumbled! All of DC was watching me and I fucked up!”

The small blonde shushed her. “You didn’t fuck up, you did fine. You just misspoke. You can’t compare yourself to someone who practically tears people to shreds for a living.”

“Oh my god, there’s no way the president won’t know about this by the time I get back,” Amelia panicked. “He’s going to fire me… There’s no way I can show my face in the White House ever again, I let him d—”

Ainsley stopped her from spiraling. “Amelia, honey, breathe. Breathe regular.” She rested a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be fired. The president pays people to clean up these messes.” She paused. “Not that this was a huge one… It’ll be okay.”

“We can fix this,” Leo said, sitting across from a still-distraught Amelia in the Oval Office. “If we make it look like you were the underdog and you were pushed into an unavoidable position—”

“That makes me look weak,” she said, “which I already do, and it wouldn’t help us look any better.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Jed uncrossed his arms, and leaned on the Resolute Desk with one hand. He’d been listening quietly, so the interjection made Amelia jump. “It makes you look young and inexperienced, which isn’t the same thing.”

“Excuse my frankness sir, but wouldn’t that be worse? It would make me look like I don’t deserve to be here, which quite honestly is what they already th—”

“Slow down, kid,” Leo said, reaching across and putting a hand on her knee. “It doesn’t matter what they think, whoever they are. All that matters is the actual facts. And that’s why we can put them out there and fix this.”

“But no one’s going to listen after what I did!” She cried. “You asked me to paint this in the best light possible and I didn’t.”

“You’re making this into something bigger than it needs to be,” Leo said. “If you were making this kind of misstep a year from now or two years from now it’d be different.”

“Despite how it might appear,” Bartlet said, “I do know what being fallible feels like. Leo’s right; this is reparable. CJ will fix this, even if I have to make her do it.”

Amelia felt a lump form in her throat. “Okay,” she said, swallowing hard. “Okay. Th-Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“You haven’t yet,” the president said with a sympathetic smile.

She felt drawn to the West Wing, even though she dreaded it. 

Donna got up from her desk when she heard the sound of her friend’s wheelchair. “You were good,” she said. “Really good.”

“Until I threw the president and his reputation under the bus,” Amelia whined. “Until I did the exact opposite of my job description.”

“It’s a rite of passage around here,” Sam said, coming out from his and Toby’s office. “We’ve all done it… some more than others.”

“He’s not completely under the bus yet,” Toby called. “We still have time to pull him out.”

“That’s pretty much what Leo told me,” she said, “in so many words. Different ones.”

“So why do you look like you’re about to sob?” Josh asked, leaning against the doorframe of his office.

Amelia turned her chair around on a dime. “Because I’m mortified! I looked like a fool, like I don’t know how to do my job!” Her voice went up at least two octaves, and just as many decibels.

Josh’s eyes widened. “Calm down,” he said, instinctively stepping towards her, “it’s not the end of the world.” He knelt down in front of her, startling her a little. “You’re human, and that’s okay.”

She glanced into her lap and saw he was resting his hands on hers. “Not when you’re like me, Josh,” she said quietly.

“You keep saying that,” he said. “I don’t know what you mean by it.”

Amelia scoffed. “Don’t be cute. You can’t tell me you weren’t knocked on your ass when you heard Bartlet was hiring an actual disabled person.”

Josh’s forehead wrinkled. “Quite honestly, it blew right past me… I forgot about it until you showed up.”

“And then you dismissed me out of hand,” she said. “It stings, but I don’t blame you.”

“It had nothing to do with…that,” he replied. “Don’t play the victim, I know you’re better than that.”

“I don’t think you do,” Amelia said, coming off more harshly than she intended. “It does make a difference, y’know.”

“I’m on your side,” he said softly. “We all are. Let us be there for you.”

She sighed shakily. “Don’t kneel down to talk to me,” she said with a teary smirk. “It’s super patronizing.”

“Sorry,” Josh said, standing up and brushing off his pants. “I’ll remember that.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually don't like to post chapters this close together, but I wanna get to my "Noel" one before the holiday season is over.

CJ called her desk late on a Friday. “You’re coming to Portland.”

“Wha— CJ?” Amelia sputtered. “You’re kidding. I have things to do.”

“And you’ll be doing the same, if not better things, in Oregon. The president wants you to work some stuff about special ed into his speech.”

“This is a big thing,” she said, “this is a major thing. Are you sure? Is he sure?”

“He specifically asked me to let you know, since he won’t have time to do it himself before we leave. Dulles, 5 a.m., Tuesday.” The press secretary heard Amelia inhale sharply. “You’ll be fine. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t trust you.”

The sun hadn’t even come up yet when she found herself in the press van with CJ on the way to where Air Force One was sitting on the tarmac. 

“We have a few additions to the passenger manifest.” Claudia Jean rattled off the names of a few secretaries. “Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn will also be joining us, along with Public Liaison spokeswoman Amelia Weiss.”

“Doesn’t that run the risk of being a little controversial?” Someone from the back asked. “Not everything needs to be made into a disability issue.”

CJ sighed, meeting Amelia’s eye a few rows away. “The president isn’t afraid to talk about what he thinks needs attention. That’s all I’m going to say about that.”

“Isn’t that sending a mixed message? We didn’t forget she—”

“Enough,” she said forcefully. “The message will be perfectly clear after the next MS broadcast airs.”

The reporters all got out of the van in a rush, and left Amelia there alone.

“Oh shit,” CJ said, popping her head back in. “I’ll go… I’ll go get Charlie.”

Bartlet’s body man came bounding onto the bus. “How do you wanna do this?” 

“Just… let me hang onto your arm,” she said, looping her arm through his. She stood up, and she could tell Charlie was nervous. “I won’t fall, I promise.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, leading her down the aisle and to the door. He snuck in front of her and took her hands in his to get her down the steps. “You got it?”

“Yup, I’m good,” she said, getting down the last stair. As he walked her to the plane, Charlie called out “Don’t forget the wheelchair, please!”

“Charlie—”

“I’m assigned to the president, but that doesn’t mean I don’t keep an eye on you, too.”

“I have enough eyes on me,” Amelia said. 

“Tell me about it,” Charlie laughed.

“Thank you,” she said, sighing and smiling up at him.

CJ and Bartlet were getting onto Air Force One, but stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Notre Dame is gonna give Michigan the ass kicking they deserve,” Jed announced. “Isn’t that right, CJ?” He plonked a Fighting Irish cap on the press secretary’s head.

“Please, sir—”

“It’s a good photo op,” the president grinned, turning around and smiling for the cameras. He spotted Amelia and Charlie down at the bottom of the steps. “Get up here, young lady,” Bartlet called to her. 

“Me?” she mouthed, pointing to herself.

“Is there another ‘young lady’ within a hundred yards of here? Come on.”

She let go of Charlie’s arm and tried to go up to the plane as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Take your time,” Jed said with a chuckle. “There’s no rush.” When she reached the top he put an arm around her and beamed for the cameras.

“God am I glad I work behind the scenes,” Amelia said, grabbing onto the headrests of the seats as she made her way to where Toby and Sam were sitting.

“You keep up your good work and people are gonna start recognizing you on the street,” Toby said.

“I don’t intend to,” she deadpanned.

“It’s not fun,” Sam added. “I don’t recommend it.”

They landed in Portland at noon Washington time, 9 a.m. West Coast time. Bartlet was scheduled to give his speech first, then do a rope line and some meeting and greeting. The weather didn’t bode well for doing the speech outdoors — it was a typical gray, cloudy Pacific Northwest day, it looked like the sky would open up and pour buckets down at any second — but of course he insisted.

Amelia guessed there were a few thousand people waiting to hear what the president thought about public education; the air was electric, and she felt herself falling under the spell too. “I’d vote for him again,” she said quietly to Sam from the end of the front row.

“Don’t get your hopes up just yet,” Toby said. “He hasn’t decided.”

“My hopes are at a reasonable level.”

Bartlet had the crowd hanging on his every move and word from the second he stepped onstage. “For too long, public education in this country has been neglected,” he said. “More precisely, our public school students have been neglected. Test scores have taken precedence over real, lasting education. Teachers who care, teachers who have passion, teachers who change lives are being let go because of numbers. Education is not a numbers game, ladies and gentlemen. It’s one of the things that matters most in a child’s life, and if we keep treating it so arbitrarily, where will that lead us? We’ll produce citizens who tick boxes, but we won’t produce better, more intelligent, and more curious citizens, plain and simple.”

The audience gave a rousing applause before letting him continue. “And what of the students who need us the most?” Amelia’s breath caught in her throat: this was the part she helped Toby and Sam write. “The children with additional needs? Those are the students we’re doing wrong by. Education opens up doors for those children, opens up the world to those children, but they can’t get there if they’re not being served. They’re expected to fit a mold that was not made for them, and if they don’t they’re left to tread water by themselves or get left behind. We need to change our definition of what success means. We can do more for all students, but right now we aren’t.” Bartlet went on to outline his ideas for new ways of educating American students.

By the time the listeners gave their final applause, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. The insecurity she’d been feeling went away as she watched the president wave and soak up the adulation. Jed gazed in her direction, a huge smile on his face. Amelia let her emotions get the better of her; she whooped a little and laughed, zipping over to Sam and giving him as tight a hug as she could. She turned halfway around to see Toby standing with open arms. “You’re a softie,” she said, throwing her arms around his middle. “I know you are.”

“It’s something I prefer to keep close to the vest,” the communications director said. “Don’t let it get out,” he smiled.

CJ led the president and the other members of his staff to where the rope line was set up. Amelia placed herself towards the back of the group, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself.

“Annie,” Jed called, “come here. I want you to meet some of these people.” He motioned for her to move up near him.

“My name’s Amelia, sir,” she said quietly after looping around the others to get closer. She smiled at a couple who’d just shook the president’s hand.

“Aren’t you lovely?” the older woman said, practically cooing at her. “You must feel so special, getting to spend a day with the president!”

It took all her resolve not to snap. “She works for me,” Bartlet responded instead, ever the diplomat. “Does a damn good job, too.”

Amelia mouthed “thank you” as they moved along.

A mother holding a kid no older than five reached out her free hand to have it shaken by the president. “Thank you, sir,” she said, shifting the little one on her hip. “Thank you so much. That plan could help so many kids like Maggie get the most out of school.”

“We’ll try our hardest to get it through,” Jed smiled, smoothing down the little girl’s hair.

Amelia saw the way the girl’s limbs hung limply against her mom’s body. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll push harder,” she said with a chuckle. “I know how important being educated is.”

The woman’s voice choked a little. “Thank you.”

They went through the rest of the line, taking thirty minutes longer than they were scheduled for. “I know it doesn’t bother you one bit, sir,” CJ said, “but we have a schedule to stick to. We were supposed to be at Dewey’s Books across town and the ice cream shop across the street for photo ops…about ten minutes ago.”

“People are more important to me than photo ops, Claudia Jean,” the president said. “Ten minutes won’t kill us. But I do love a good bookstore.” He gave his farewells and then jogged off to a black Suburban.

Amelia made the journey in another truck with Toby and Sam, who had a hilariously difficult time getting her chair into the trunk. “You’re lucky it’s just a travel one and not the one I normally use,” she laughed.

The shop was typical Portland: a twee, hip place with dark wood everywhere and narrow, towering shelves. “I’d love to go in,” she said, “but I’d probably wreck the place worse than a bull in a china shop.” Sam offered to stay out on the sidewalk with her.

“The speech went over great,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“You and Toby knocked it out of the park,” she replied with a smile.

“Don’t be modest,” Sam said.

“Come on, you guys did most of the work.”

“You did more than you think you did,” he said. “Don’t sell yourself short; your words move people, and they’re not just empty bullshit. Some of us work our whole careers to do that.”

She thought of Maggie and her mom. “I don’t know how to do empty, it’s just not me,” Amelia shrugged.

The deputy communications director put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s hard to keep your work self separate from your real self,” he said. “Be careful.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not lie when I said this was going to be a slow burn. Please don't get bored.

“It’s times like this when I miss New York,” Amelia said wistfully as she made her way through the decorated lobby. “The music makes me feel like I’m in Central Park, or a subway station.”

“You can thank Toby for that, he insisted on it,” Josh said, jogging to meet up with her. “You going home for the break?”

She laughed. “No, I’m staying here. Flights to JFK are crazy expensive this close to Christmas, and—”

“I could get Donna to pull some strings, she’s done it for me a hundred times. I’m sure you want to see your family.”

“I don’t, actually,” she sighed. “I love them so much, but they’re kind of suffocating. Whenever I’m home they baby me and I just…don’t need that right now.”

Josh’s forehead wrinkled in surprise.

“I’ll still talk to them, I’m not a complete sociopath.”

“That’s the furthest thing from what you are,” he said earnestly.

The last MS broadcast before the new year had been fine, but Amelia had an idea she wanted to run by Toby. “We should go live in January,” she announced to him and Sam. “I’ve been saying it feels like something’s missing for a while now.”

“No,” Toby said. “This level of vulnerability is risky enough on its own. We don’t need to add any more spontaneity.”

“I’m not saying we do it totally cold,” she said, going in and parking herself between the desk and the couch. “He’ll have bullet points or whatever, but no strict script. It’ll loosen him up, god knows he needs it.”

“We can try it,” Sam said. “Run a test version before the camera rolls, see how he and Abbey do…”

“It’s not the First Lady who worries me,” the communications director lamented. 

“I like the way Sam’s going,” Amelia said with a smile. “Her being there might help, actually. Nothing’s written in stone. It might be easier this way than having his every utterance planned ahead.”

Toby looked at her solemnly, and then to Sam.

“Please?” she asked. “Just say yes, I hate to beg. Say you don’t hate it.”

“Amelia never does anything by the seat of her pants, Toby,” Sam said. “You know she’s thought this through.”

He sighed. “Fine; I don’t hate it. But it makes me extremely anxious.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Have the talking points ready by the first day back, and don’t be lazy.”

“Am I ever?” she grinned, and then spun on a dime and zipped out of the office.

“What are you so happy about?” Josh asked from Donna’s desk, putting down a stack of files.

“I think I just had my shortest argument ever with Toby,” she said with a chuckle. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

A few days before Washington all but shut down for the holiday break, Jed held the annual White House Christmas party. Amelia was honored to have been invited (only some staff from the OEOB were) but she still felt uncomfortable and slightly out of place as she walked into the ballroom with her walker.

She greeted Leo first, who was stationed near where the guests were arriving. “Merry Christmas, kiddo,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Am I the only one you call that?” she asked with a chuckle. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Just you and Josh,” he smiled.

She bumped into Sam and Ainsley over by the bar. “I hope you’re not planning on drinking anything too strong tonight,” he said. “It’s not pretty when she’s had too many.”

“A glass of champagne won’t kill me,” she said with a smirk.

“You should try a pink squirrel sometime,” Ainsley said.

Amelia’s face crinkled in confusion.

“You don’t wanna know,” was all Sam said.

CJ and Toby were talking and giggling amongst themselves. She’d never seen him smile so big. “You look good, babydoll,” the press secretary said. “Red’s a good color for you.” She took a sip from a glass of wine.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I’m just happy I don’t look like a 12 year old wearing my big sister’s clothes.”

“You’re adorable,” CJ smirked.

“She’s right,” Toby added. “You look positively cherubic.”

“That’s exactly what I was going for.” She rolled her eyes and walked away, the remainder of her drink sloshing around.

The room got quiet just as Amelia got to the hors d’oeuvres table. “Ladies and gentleman, the President and First Lady of the United States.”

“Please, this isn’t a state dinner,” Jed said with a chuckle. “Let’s treat this like what it is: a party.” The Marine Corps Band started playing Sing, Sing Sing, and everyone unfroze.

Amelia ran into Donna, who was biting into a bruschetta and catching the crumbs in her other hand. “Have you seen Josh around?”

“Don’t these people know they shouldn’t let us eat such messy food in fancy clothes?” The blonde said, almost to herself. “Turn around,” she said to her friend, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

He’d chosen to wear a tuxedo, even though he couldn’t tie a bowtie without help. They caught each other’s gaze, and she gave a weak wave with the hand that wasn’t holding her drink.

“You look…great,” Josh said, loping over to her.

“And your bowtie is way too loose,” Amelia replied. “Other than that you clean up alright.” She chuckled. “Thank you, I try.” She downed the last few sips of her champagne.

He smiled, making his dimples pop up in his cheeks. “Always keeping me humble.”

“If Donna and I don’t, no one will. Your ego might overtake you.”

They stood listening to the band and picking at the snacks, not speaking but sneaking glances at each other. Amelia felt like a teenager with a crush.

The band started playing Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Serenade. “You getting tired of just standing here too?” Josh whispered, leaning down so she could hear him. The closeness made her jump a little. “Dance with me.”

“You know for a fact that I do not dance,” she said. “My body doesn’t do dancing.”

“I’ll lead, it won’t be that hard,” he said. He held out both hands and smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “Come on.”

She groaned playfully, then stepped over to him and left her walker behind. “Fine, but I’ll only last a couple of songs.”

He moved gently to the music so as to not knock her off balance, just swaying slightly until he could tell what was okay. “I know you can’t resist me.” The smile in his voice sent her heart into her throat.

Amelia had her arms slung around his neck, and she found herself leaning into him so she wouldn’t fall over. She hoped he couldn’t feel how hard her heart was pounding.

“Step to the right,” he whispered, hands on her waist. “That’s it; you don’t have to do too much. Now move up; I’ve got you.”

“To the left,” Josh said as Body and Soul started. “And go back.”

“I must be a pain in the ass to dance with.”

“You haven’t hurt me yet,” he smiled. “So I’d say you’re doing pretty well.”

“You’re too kind,” she laughed. “You don’t have to be.”

“It’s not because I have to be,” Josh said, a serious look crossing his face. “You can trust me, y’know.”

A deep blush rose to her cheeks, and her pulse fluttered. “You sure?”

He leaned down, even closer to her than before. “Absolutely,” he said. There was a different look in his eyes now, one she recognized but hadn’t seen from him before: desire.

Oh my god, she thought, her eyes widening. Was he going to kiss her, right there in a room full of everyone they worked with? She had no clue. 

The ballroom filled with the opening notes of Ave Maria; suddenly Josh’s face went pale. “Let’s sit down,” he said quickly, guiding her to one of the dining tables. Instead of sitting next to her, he practically bolted away.

Her eyes flicked around the room in confusion; she saw that Donna looked confused too.

“Is he okay?” The deputy chief of staff’s assistant asked, taking an empty seat at Amelia’s table.

“I don’t think so,” she said in a small voice.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this posted!

She resisted every urge to reach out to Josh during her time off. That is, until a few days before New Year’s Eve.

“Are you doing anything Sunday night?” she asked, trying her hardest to sound casual.

“Sund—? Amelia?” Josh replied.

“Donna gave me your number,” she explained. “Don’t be mad, don’t—”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked. “Because you didn’t ask me yourself? I don’t mind.”

“Answer the original question,” she pushed.

“No, I’m not doing anything on New Year’s.”

“Nothing? No party, no drinking binge, no date?” 

“Why do you make fun of me so much?” Josh whined.

“It’s so easy!” She smirked, but then sighed. “Seriously, would you mind if I came by your apartment? Being alone on a holiday is so…sad.”

“Not at all,” he said.

When she was standing outside his door, she realized her knees were shaking. Josh answered the door wearing a Harvard hoodie and flannel pajama pants.

“Oh god, I’m way overdressed,” Amelia said, glancing down at her sweater and leggings.

“No such thing,” he said, motioning for her to come inside. “No such thing as overeducated either.”

“Did you just use an Oscar Wilde quote on me?” she asked with a laugh.

“Well…it’s true,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“If you think you can charm me that easily you’re gonna have to try harder.”

“I know,” he chuckled.

“I hate watching the stuff from Times Square,” Amelia said, parking her walker and plopping down on the couch. “Let’s see what else is on.”

“You want anything to drink?” Josh asked. “Snacks?” He padded over to the refrigerator. “Leftovers? I promise they’re not bad.”

“You really know how to woo a girl,” she laughed. “I’m sure it’s all crap; I’m sure there’s not a wheat cracker or fancy cheese in sight.”

“You like chips and guac?” He took a jar out of the fridge.

“I’m more of a queso girl,” she said, shifting positions in her seat. “You planning on getting me wrecked on margaritas?”

“Is that what you think I’m implying?” he said, taking a bag out of the pantry. He paused, then said “Only if that’s what you want.”

She was distracted by flipping channels. “I know TV sucks at 9:30 p.m. on a Sunday but…ooh, hang on.” Her eyes widened. “We have to watch this, I don’t care what you say.”

Josh put the food on the coffee table and sat down. “When Harry Met Sally?” he scoffed. “You’re such a girl.”

“Don’t change the channel,” she said. To her surprise, he didn’t argue.

“Can I tell you something weird?” She asked during scene where the couples argued over the aesthetics of a wagon wheel coffee table. “You have to promise not to laugh.”

“Okay…” His eyebrow quirked up.

Amelia sighed. “I…I think Billy Crystal was kinda sexy in this movie.”

Josh coughed, narrowly avoiding choking on a chip.

“You promised!” She leaned over and smacked him on the arm.

“It says a lot about you, that’s for sure,” he mused. “Is that your type, then?”

“What?” she shot back. “Neurotic Jews with twisted senses of humor who take pleasure in annoying everyone?”

“You’ve clearly seen this multiple times. Answer the question.”

“Who doesn’t want to fall in love with their best friend? Their person? The one who’s there without even having to be asked?”

“You’re going around the question,” he pressed. “And you’re a huge sap.”

“Excuse me for wanting something that lasts longer than a congressional campaign,” Amelia said. “And I don’t have a specific type. It really depends on the person.”

“Ouch, that stung.” Josh swiped a chip through the dip and took a bite.

“My entire point.”

“Anyone who says they don’t have a type is lying.”

As the movie progressed in front of them, she noticed he’d been unconsciously scooting closer to her. She wasn’t uncomfortable; not that she would say so out loud.

Amelia started bouncing a little towards the end, right before the New Year’s party scene. She let out a tiny squeal, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Josh smile. When Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan caught each other’s gaze, she put her hand over her mouth.

“You know how it’s going to end,” he said. “How can you still get excited?”

“It’s the buildup,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. “The buildup to the kiss, the payoff.”

“You’re adorable,” he said softly, turning just slightly towards her.

“Hmm?” She turned to him and his eyes flashed dark.

“You’re adorable,” he repeated, putting a hand on her shoulder. Meg Ryan had started crying on the TV in front of them, but they weren’t paying attention anymore.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Josh slid his hand to the back of her neck, and closed the gap between them with a soft but full bodied kiss. She leaned into him, bracing herself on his shoulders.

They broke apart and his eyes fluttered open, all warm and lustful. “Sorry, I—” Before he could finish she cut him off with another kiss, this one hungrier and more forward. Amelia tried to maneuver herself onto his lap, but fumbled. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he whispered, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

She let out a small giggle. “My mind works faster than my body sometimes.”

He quirked an eyebrow and kissed her forehead sweetly. “So does this mean I’m your type?”

“Shut up.”

She was nauseous when she went back to the White House when things were back in session, and not just because she had to give Toby the talking points for Bartlet’s next MS broadcast. She spotted Josh standing in the bullpen, arms crossed and studying the TV news intently. She stayed still and watched him for a minute; the way his forehead crinkled in concentration, the way he moved his hands to rest on his hips, the way his eyes blazed. 

Toby snapped her out of it. “You have the thing?” 

Amelia spun around so fast she thought her head would start spinning. “Y-Yeah,” she answered, going into his office. She slid the piece of paper across his desk nervously.

She was beginning to think he might be messing with her when he said “It’s good. Maybe a little too loose in places, but we’ll tighten it up.”

“We don’t want to strangle him, Toby,” she said.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He glanced at her over his glasses. “Relax. You look like you might spontaneously combust. Is everything okay?”

Before she could answer, Josh strode in. “We should give the bipartisan breakfast another… Hey.”

The communications director looked from him, whose entire being had gone uncharacteristically soft, to her, who looked like a six year old caught stealing an extra cookie. “Is there…something we should know about?” He paused. “You know what? That’s your business.”

The scene replayed in her head all morning as she made edits for Toby to make a second pass over. The more she thought about it, the more anxious she got. She went back to the White House before lunch, hoping to catch him before he took a break.

The first thing she heard in the West Wing was a familiar voice near top volume. “I don’t care if he thinks it’s a stunt! How many times do I have to tell you? This is genuine!” 

“Is Toby around?” Amelia asked Donna.

“You just missed him,” Josh’s assistant said quietly.

“Oh, I wanted to let him take another look at this.”

“You want me to get the president on a conference call? Will you believe me then?” the deputy chief of staff shouted again.

She looked over to see a closed door. “Sam gone too?” she asked.

“I can leave it in there for them,” Donna said.

Josh’s door flung open. “Donna, can we add any other names to that stupid list?” He leaned on the doorframe, brimming with tension. His eyes fell on Amelia, and his eyebrows shot up. “We need to stop meeting like this,” he said, his whole body relaxing.

“I was looking for Toby,” she said in a small voice.

“Why are you terrified of me all of a sudden?” he asked.

“It’s not what you think,” Amelia said, turning around to leave.

“Hey,” Josh said, “don’t go yet. Come in here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is kind of short, but I felt it was the right beat to end on (god, I'm such a writer, ew). I'm hoping the next chapter will be longer. Comments and kudos would be amazing :)


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